


you and i walk a fragile line

by spacelabrathor



Category: Bad Times at the El Royale (2018)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Like Pretty Intense Dubious Consent, mild age play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:14:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27716617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacelabrathor/pseuds/spacelabrathor
Summary: He’d found you sneaking hooch out the back of the kitchen, stupidly, after the evening service. You weren’t supposed to drink. You were old enough, if you’d lived in town and not in this dusty commune, but Billy Lee had rules. Rules he made. Rules that confounded sense or reason. And one of them was that no woman drank before he decided she was old enough to do so.He hadn’t decided such for you. Not yet. And the sight of him coming round the corner and seeing you, a small glass bottle up against your lips as his brow fell and drew hard, had sent you to quivering right there.
Relationships: Billy Lee (Bad Times at the El Royale)/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 40





	you and i walk a fragile line

He has you stood before a tall mirror in the big house, shivering in your light shift of a dress as he watches you over your shoulder. Towering over you, his chin above your head, as he looks at your reflection, his mouth turned down in a frown that has your belly quaking. 

He’d found you sneaking hooch out the back of the kitchen, stupidly, after the evening service. You weren’t supposed to drink. You were old enough, if you’d lived in town and not in this dusty commune, but Billy Lee had rules. Rules he made. Rules that confounded sense or reason. And one of them was that no woman drank before he decided she was old enough to do so. 

He hadn’t decided such for you. Not yet. And the sight of him coming round the corner and seeing you, a small glass bottle up against your lips as his brow fell and drew hard, had sent you to quivering right there. 

He makes a soft _tch_ sound with his mouth now, like he’s disappointed in you as he moves from looking at you over one shoulder to the other. This close he smells of burnt marijuana and sun-warmed skin and the lowkey, smoldering sensation of a threat and you can hear the beat of your heart in your ears as he lifts your hair from your neck and tucks it behind your shoulder. Watching you in the mirror with a thoughtful expression. 

You don’t move, because he hasn’t told you to, but your breath knots up in your throat when you feel the heat of his body pressed behind yours. 

“You wanna act like a big girl, huh,” he says. Speaking slowly, a dark drawl that feels like fingertips up your spine. 

You shake your head. Swallowing heavily. Wishing you’d managed to get more down before he’d found you because your fear has sobered you like a bucket of cold water. 

His hand finds your side and trails up it, dragging over the linen of your dress. “What’s that?” he asks you. You feel his jaw against the side of your head and feel the press of his mouth to your hair and you take in a shuddering breath. 

“N-no,” you say, weakly. Watching helplessly in the mirror as his hand raises on your other side and eases over the curve of your thigh. 

He makes another thoughtful mouth sound, like he doesn’t quite believe you. His eyes meet yours in your reflection. Dark. 

“I think you do, darlin’,” he says, his lips moving against your hair. “Sneakin’ somethin’ you know isn’t yours to take.” 

His hand turns and covers your hip. Big and dry and a little hard as he squeezes around the bones he finds there. You whimper when he grips hard enough to bruise, and it draws his eye. Calculating and sharp as his body presses against yours from behind. Blazing like a furnace where the bare skin of his chest presses against the thin set of your shoulders. 

His breath ghosts across the shell of your ear, hot, and you barely stop yourself from curling in on yourself. Your insides wrenching on the instinct to protect yourself from the predatory glint in his eye and the hard grip of his hand on your hip. 

He squeezes you once more until you let out another soft gasp, and then his hand drops down your thigh. Slowly, catching on your dress until he reaches the hem line. His eyes catch yours in the mirror once more. 

His fingers close around the hem of your dress. “You wanna be treated like a big girl?” he asks, his nose nudging behind your ear, and it feels like a trap. Like you’re snared, a rabbit hung up on cinching wires in the forest, struggling and frantic and waiting for a slow death. 

You shiver against him, down your whole body, and then he begins to lift the hem of your dress. Up, and up, dragging the light fabric over your overly sensitive skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake as he gets it over your head and drops it at once in a pile on the floor. 

He steps closer still, jostling you with the press of his body, and he makes a quiet sound at the sight of you. Bared to him in the low light of his room, his messy, unmade bed a dark expanse behind your reflection in the mirror. He looks you over, looking somewhere between dissatisfied and bored, and his hand is dark and broad when he spreads it over your belly. 

The touch of his palm to your bare skin is electric. Heated and startling, and your head tips back unconsciously. Nudging against his shoulder behind you as your breath gets lodged up in your chest. 

He bends and nudges his nose against your ear again, his mustache scraping gently against that heated skin, and then he opens his mouth on your throat. Wet and scalding with a nip of teeth and it has you lurching against him. Stunned and breathing hard, your chest rising and falling as your nipples pebble up hard and your fingers grip into fists at your side. 

He tastes you on a soft, gritted sound, moving his body against yours, and you feel him there. Behind you. The press of the soft swell of his cock against your lower back, and it has your head tipping back more. Shivering as his palm on your belly lifts and ghosts over the curve of your breast. Taking the weight of it in his hand and giving your nipple a cruel tweak that has you jerking against him once more. 

You can hardly see, blinded with fear and the race of your pulse and the sharp twinge of something in low your belly that heats like honey as his teeth close against around the curve of your neck. 

He lets out a slow exhale when he draws back, his hot breath catching on the wet of his mouth left behind over your pulse point, and when he catches your gaze in the mirror again, his expression is like a storm. 

“You think you’re grown?” he asks you, his hand spreading over your belly again. His voice is a low rumble, heavy with heat, and you know in that moment that he’s going to fuck you. Your cunt clenches down at the thought, and you barely keep your eyes from squeezing shut. 

He makes another thoughtful sound. Watching you in the mirror as the bare skin of his chest heats between your shoulder blades. “Let’s find out.” 

His hand dips low, and you can’t stop the ragged sound that falls from your lips when his fingers slide between your legs and find you soaked. 

He _hmms_ into your temple as his fingers glide easily through the slick folds of your sex, a feather light touch that has you feeling faint. As he watches the expression on your face twist and swirl as he drags his fingers against you uselessly, avoiding the parts of you that are aching. Just running the rough pad of his fingertips back and forth as he watches you. Watches you try desperately not to tip your hips against his hand and put him where you need him. 

You can’t breathe, your heart galloping in your chest as his free hand comes up to wrap itself around your throat and gives it a squeeze. Just long enough that you start to go rigid in his arms, just until the first cold edge of panic fills the very corners of your mind, and then he’s releasing you. Releasing you and stepping back, quick enough that it disorients you. Makes you dizzy and weak on your feet, blinking stupidly at your own dazed reflection, barely able to take in the red marks on your throat from his mouth, the flush that’s spread across your sternum, before he is pushing you with a hand between your shoulder blades. Maneuvering you with little care, a shove, until you collapse forward. Your knees sinking into the soft plush of his mattress as your upper body crumples down.

You let out a ragged breath as your face presses into the loose bedding there. Smelling faintly stale and dusty as you hold yourself in place. Quivering down your entire body as your face disappears into the pillow of your elbow. Unable to move, your cheeks blazing at the feel of cool air against your hot, aching cunt that’s held up in the air. 

You hear him, hear the clank of a belt buckle and the soft press of fabric, and then he’s there behind you. A presence you can sense, a wall of heat and intent and possession, and your insides war. Torn between shrinking away from him and tilting your hips towards him in wanton need. Your mind swimming as your cunt pulses and aches, wet and empty, and you nearly leap from your skin when his hand grips on your hip. Stepping up close to you, and you bite your lip until the taste of blood flashes over your tongue at the feel of his cock, hot and hard, smearing against the mess of your sex. 

“You think you’re grown?” he asks, and your delirious mind catches onto something there. A catch to his voice that you nearly miss, a thickness to it. He takes the head of his cock and presses it against where you’re slick and twitching and you feel your insides clench reflexively as you choke down a whimper. 

He waits, the sound of his breathing, hot and through his nose, filling the air, and then you shake your head. “No,” you whisper.

And then he makes a sound like he’s pleased and spears you onto his cock. 

It jolts you beneath him. Your whole body tightening on a pained lurch as he buries himself deep in your cunt, the fill of his cock a choking, impossible thing that has you clawing at the bedding beneath you and wrenching out a ragged groan. 

He growls behind you, a rush of heated pleasure that you feel along every notch of your spine, and then he takes your hips in his hands and fucks you. 

It feels like being split in two. Tectonic and shattering as he makes room for him in you with every hard rut of his hips. It aches, the hard pound of his hips, but your mouth falls open against musty sheets and you can’t stop the soft wail that’s coming from somewhere deep inside of you. 

It feels…it feels….

You cant your hips against his and feel your thighs part for him. Making room for him behind you. Inviting him in as your eyes squeeze tightly shut and every plunge of his cock into the tight clutch of your sex knocks a breath from your lungs. Feeling him take you apart between his hands and his hips and giving yourself over to the tidal pull of it. Letting your head loll uselessly against the mattress as he takes and takes from you, grunting out hard, angry sounds as he chases his release with your body. 

He shifts then. Tugging your hips up and back, using one of his knees to spread yours farther as he presses you down harder into the mattress, and the new angle plunges him deeper. Thicker, like he’s pressing into the very core of you. 

“ _Oh_ \- “ you gasp, your spine going rigid as something slices up hot through your belly. A ripping tide of tension and light that has you scrambling. Gripping at the bedding below and writhing against him as he growls and grips you tight. Pins you tight beneath him as an ugly release spikes inside of you. Sudden and violent and unexpected, a nauseating rush that has you panting open mouthed against the mattress as your cunt spasms and pulses on frantically on his cock on hard, rolling waves of electric pleasure that have you shaking beneath the press of his body. 

He makes a sound above you. Something startled, and then he is gripping you hard. Shoving you down so hard into the mattress that the breath rushes from your lungs as he roots his cock deep into the heat of your cunt. 

You feel him cum. Feel the jump of his cock as he grinds his hips against your ass, slicking the inside of you up with his seed. Hearing him groan ragged through gritted teeth as his hands grip you hard enough to bruise as you gasp frantically against the rough pattern of the sheets. 

You’re about to fight him, frantic, black spots cornering your vision from the impossible weight of him pinning you down, when he finally lifts a little. Sucking in a breath as he lifts himself upright and pulls back from you. Hard enough to make you whimper as cool air rushes in and bathes over the soaked, abused skin of your sex. 

You stay there. On your knees, your face pressed against the mattress. Drawing ragged breaths as you feel the last, faint wringing pulls of your orgasm fading. Trembling like a fawn. 

He remains where he stands, but you hardly realize. Floating and sinking in one twisting swirl, feeling outside of your body until you hear the hard puff of his exhale somewhere near the small of your back, and then you feel his fingers pressing abruptly into your sex. Making you yelp a groan and nearly collapse to the mattress. 

His hand on your hip keeps you in the air, and you let you a whimper as you realize he’s stroking you there. Feeling at the heated slip of his cum inside of you. Pushing it in deeper around the thick press of his two fingers. 

He stands when he’s satisfied. His breathing labored in the heated air as he pulls his hand from you and steps back. Leaving you to crumple against his mattress as if your strings were cut. Listening to the sound of his footsteps as he takes a step back, and then two, and then turns and leaves the room. 

You know, dimly, that you need to leave. That his use of you is gone and that every moment you remain tempts whatever fate brought you here in the first place. You’ve served your sentence, and you just have to…go. 

It takes you longer than you’d like. To gather your strength and to push yourself up onto shaky elbows. Squinting as your eyes adjust to the dim light again and feeling your knees knock together when you trip clumsily over to where your dress is piled on the floor. Pulling it down over your head and struggling weakly when one of your arms catches on the sleeve. 

You feel yourself as you step towards the bedroom door. Squelching and soaked between your thighs. Bruised and aching with each step in a way that sends a strange, exhausted thrill through you. You stumble out into the living room, lit by a single-bulbed lamp on the far table, and come to an abrupt halt at the sight of him. Standing by the front window. Naked and tall, looking out into the night. A hazy smoke coming from the joint between his lips. 

He turns in place, having heard you. You can’t read his expression in the shadow, but you see the shiny slick of you messed all over his hips and his thighs catch in the light, and you feel something hot flare in your belly at the sight. 

You stand motionless, knowing any step could be the wrong one, but something in his stance draws you. Makes you take a step towards him, the floorboards creaking beneath your bare feet, until you’re standing before him. Looking up at his face, lit by the faint light of the lamp and the glow of the moon outside the window. 

He takes a long pull from his joint and the exhales. Blowing heavy smoke between his lips and through his nose. He looks down at you for a moment, and you don’t know what he means to do to you, but then he makes a soft sound and tilts your chin with his finger. Stepping into your space and leaning down over you. Pressing his mouth to yours with such tenderness that it takes you aback. Makes your lips fall open on a whisper of a sound as he breathes into you, the remnants of smoke making your lungs burn a little as he tastes softly into your mouth. 

You sway into him when he draws back, bringing his joint to his lips again as he draws back to full height. He watches you for another moment, the cherry of the joint glowing in the dark shadow, and then he turns back to the window, away from you. 

You take in a shaking breath and touch at your mouth. Feeling the skin there raw and tingly beneath your fingertips as you step backwards until you feel the front door behind your back. 

He doesn’t turn to watch you and you go then in a rush. Gripping the door handle and swinging the door open and then shut behind you. Breathing in deep lungfuls of the cool summer night air as you take the path back to your cabin on the far side of the commune. Pebbles of the gravel road sharp beneath your feet but you hardly feel them as you make the mindless journey back. 

You know that in the morning, Billy Lee will greet you as normal. That he will have considered an appropriate punishment for the indiscretion rendered and that he will look at you no differently, in spite of knowing the feel of you coming apart on his cock. 

A breeze drifts by you, fluttering under your dress and making you shiver as you turn down the narrow path that leads to your cabin. You feel something catch on the breeze against your skin, between your legs, and you realize it’s his spend. Dripping down the inside of your thighs, and you press your fingers tight to your lips again. Pressing down hard to feel the lingering tingle there. 

You wonder, as you slip wordlessly inside your cabin and step lightly past your sleeping neighbors, crawling under the covers and squeezing your thighs together, if you will be able to do the same. To greet him as normal. To go about your day in the commune, doing your work and catching his occasional glance, all the while pretending you don’t know what the tender press of his lips to yours feels like. What the devastating split of his cock feels like at your center. 

Outside, an owl hoots. Echoing and close in the dark of night, and you force yourself to let out the breath you have been holding. Forcing your racing thoughts to calm and Closing your eyes and letting the sweet ache of your muscles lull you into a light, fitful sleep that will give you no rest come morning time. 


End file.
